


The Wolf And The Butterfly

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia Blake does not approve of superheroes. Cool idea in theory, not so much in reality. Naturally, she accidentally falls in love with one.</p><p>(Or, the superhero AU that accidentally turned into romantic fluff.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChancellorGriffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancellorGriffin/gifts).



The problem with superheroes, Octavia decides, is that they're inherently assholes. Put a cape and a mask on somebody and you'll definitely see their true nature, but there's also a ninety-something-percent chance that said true nature _sucks_. Given perfect anonymity, no one's a saint, no matter what they tell themselves to fall asleep at night.

Not that it affects her too much, this new cultural fascination. It's only been a few years since it started - she was in her senior year of high school when the first one happened, she remembers that detail vividly. Some of her friends followed the news updates _constantly_ , and sometimes tuning them out was impossible. As much as she tried, she still heard and saw plenty, but she didn't care. She never has.

Until one of the masked bastards does something about a certain part of the clientele at the bar she works at, she's going to keep this dislike and apathy towards them. Not like any of 'em will ever know.

\------

On Fridays in particular, Octavia has a routine. Fridays are lively at work, and she flits around as fast as she can, keeping an eye out for situations. Without fail, there'll be at least one. Some girl will come in and need a little looking after more than she needs a drink, and that's her angle by default. Most Fridays, she's the only female member of the staff - she's one of two to begin with, and Raven uses her seniority to _not_ work the busy shifts - and she's great at sorting out people's shit. If it'll get her a decent tip, she's capable of just about anything.

She should've been a shrink, she thinks sometimes. She would've been good at it, but her attempt at college bordered on disaster and she decided to get out before it full-on went there. At least she's using those natural talents, she tells herself. She's pieced relationships back together and, on the other end of the spectrum, helped a few people get very necessary restraining orders. At least she's doing _something_.

Tonight is peaceful by comparison, quieter than usual in the good way. It's a little past ten and she's in her element, almost twirling around the floor, and there's a new feeling of potential in the air. This is bad. The last time that happened to her… well, she does not think about that and she definitely does not talk about it and she is really not here for a repeat. But this time could be different. This time-

There's a new figure in the back of the room. There's a regular clientele here, and she's on good terms with all of them apart from the creeps who refuse to do anything she could actually ban them for. This man, on the other hand, is new. She'd remember if she'd seen him before, be it in here or otherwise. She can feel his intensity from a distance, and it's kinda hot. Scratch that, very hot. And he looks climbable, and oh god she's going to be _that_ person, and-

"Water, please."

And he's right in front of her and this is just not _fair_.

"You do realize you're in a bar, right?"

"Designated driver," he shrugs. "Not my ideal scenario either."

Oh, she has no trouble thinking of scenarios she'd like to have with this one, but not now. Focus, girl, you are twenty-three and you are _not_ going to act like a stupid teenage girl around any of the pretty people. No matter _how_ pretty this person is.

"And you can't pawn them off on anyone else?" she laughs.

"I could, perhaps."

"I like the way you talk."

"Feeling's mutual."

She looks him up and down, not even trying to pretend she isn't - but she has a reason, she swears. She needs _details_. He's a bit older than her, thirty or close, unspeakably hot but doesn't seem aware of this trait. Tired eyes, a few scars on his fingers. Tall enough to make her feel tiny, but in a way she thinks she likes. Good, good. She can work with that.

Once she thinks she's imprinted enough, Octavia starts to work. She's not entirely sure _what_ she's making, but she's an excellent judge of people and she highly doubts this one will turn down a free drink even if it doesn't come with a name attached. She can only hope.

A minute later, she places a glass in front of him. "Try this."

He takes a hesitant sip, then another, looking quite pleased by the time he puts the glass down. "Am I allowed to ask?"

"Only if you don't like it."

"Then I guess I can't."

\------

As a general rule, she doesn't fuck people she meets at work. She doesn't even really make friends with them (apart from her now-roommate, but that would've happened regardless). Tonight is an exception night. Tonight is he's hot and she needs to get laid and she's ninety-eight percent sure he's not going to murder her and she has an emergency text scheduled for twelve hours from now in case she's wrong. Tonight is he lingers, staring at her for _hours,_ until she gets off. Tonight is she doesn't mind a bit.

Tonight is letting someone take her to their apartment, which turns out to be in a really nice building. She's slightly surprised - he doesn't exactly look like he has that kind of money - but doesn't say anything. He kisses her in the elevator and she kisses back and his hand is well up her shirt by the time they get to his floor. She's loud, maybe too loud, doesn't care at all. She's just scratching an itch, not getting attached or anything.

They made it to a bedroom, fall onto a soft mattress, him on top of her. The weight's nice, and she realizes she doesn't know his name but then he slips his hand down her jeans and she decides she doesn't care. If something goes wrong, she'll never have to see or think of him again, and the less she knows the better.

He undresses her slowly but sheds his own clothes quickly, kisses her a lot, kisses her lips and neck and the hollow between her small breasts. There's no need for words. He laps at her center until she's so so close, until she pushes him off because not yet, until she pulls him upwards. He's good to her, this mystery one, better than her randoms usually are. She thinks, if this ever happens again, that she could fall in love with him.

He moves away from her for a moment, pulls a foil packet from a nightstand drawer and makes sure she sees that the condom goes on. Again, words aren't needed; again, trust is enough.

Octavia has learned not to be a romantic. She has learned not to think too much, to let her body do what it will with other people's bodies and not get attached, and she has the sexual number to prove it. But then there's this one - this one, whose body collides so sweetly with hers, who kisses her softly as he moves within her. This one, who stops and holds her when she crosses the edge, nipping at her neck and ignoring that they are still joined at the center. This one, who comes shortly after she does and slips his hand between them so she at least gets _close_ again and makes her feel whole. This one could break all her rules if she let him.

Normally, after something like this, she'd go home. Tonight, she curls up under blankets and falls fast asleep, sated and safe and content.

\------

An hour later, a masked man in all black walks the streets, but instead of focusing on his patrol, his mind is all too focused on the woman still in his bed. This wasn't supposed to happen…

 


	2. Chapter 2

If Lincoln is good at one thing, it's keeping his emotions in a little box. He learned early - out of all the coping mechanisms that could've gotten him through his childhood, shutting off was one of the better ones. It kept him _alive_ , kept him out of the way and out of trouble. Problem is, well into adulthood, it's still his default approach to things.

(Okay, there was an incident about ten years ago that didn't exactly _help_ , but if he doesn't think about that then it never happened. That entire year has been blocked from his memory. The fallout, not so much, but he deals. Mostly.)

He doesn't let people in because he expects to get screwed over and he's got enough scars, both physical and emotional, to back up that fear. He doesn't let people in because he's woven a tapestry of secrecy, putting his background in one corner and what he does at night in another and god forbid anyone see one (let alone both) of those elements. He doesn't let people in because he's a fricking superhero and that seems to be an expected personality flaw for anyone in that line of work. He doesn't let people in because he doesn't know how.

But then there's a woman, and then it all goes to hell.

He doesn't know her name, makes a clear point of not knowing, but she fits all too easily into his life. He goes from meeting her to fucking her in the space of three hours and the weird part is that it feels _right_ , like there is no need for inhibitions with her. Their bodies entwine so perfectly, the softness of her is so easy to get lost in, and he very nearly stays in with her. But no. He can't get attached, not to anyone, _especially_ not to her.

He can't get attached, yet he still wanders back the next Friday and it all repeats. He takes her back to his apartment, kisses her until neither of them can breathe, clings to every moment of her sweetness. They make love and it feels like they've known each other for years, familiar in the best way. Then, once she's solidly asleep, he slips away for other activities.

It's a quiet night, and he doesn't patrol as long as he usually would. There is a woman in his bed and somehow that wins above his previous ideals. This could become a problem. (No, scratch that, it already has.)

He slips back well before she wakes up, and he gets a few hours' sleep before there's a weight above him and a warm mouth pressing kisses to his neck. It would be all too easy to get used to this, to let her be the exception, but he can't. Too much risk for both of them, especially for her, especially if someone bad were to make the connection between them. Being close to someone in his position is how good people get _killed_ , and he can't risk her like that. He likes her too much.

So they have this routine, and somewhere along the line it turns into whole weekends sometimes, but he makes sure they follow rules. He'll never intentionally learn her name and she'll _definitely_ never learn his. They always end up at his place. He doesn't give any details about his life; if she wants to be more open, that's her decision, but he hopes she doesn't. The last thing he needs, the absolute last thing, is for this beautiful kind warm woman to get hurt because of him.

They named him the Wolf because he always works alone and someone thought it was funny, but he's falling in love fast and hard and desperate and there's nothing in the world that can stop him. No matter how much he tries. He's in love, and it's going to ruin him (or maybe, just maybe, save him).

\------

The fourth weekend they get, Octavia starts talking.

She gets it, she does. This guy's as private and disconnected as they come, which practically _screams_ married, but she can respect that. He's not exactly trying to turn her into a kept woman here - not that she'd mind, being a mistress would probably pay way better than her current career. (Being a trophy wife would theoretically be even better, but she doesn't have the tits for it.) He's just way into secrecy, and she's not sure she cares what he's hiding from. The US government, _multiple_ foreign governments, a scary other woman… fuck, he's either a spy, married to some bitch who'd make Lady Macbeth look like a cute little kitten, or wanted in four states for murder and insurance fraud. There's no way he's a good man under it all, but Octavia _does not care_.

So he doesn't talk, but that's okay because Octavia does not believe in keeping secrets of her own.

Really, it happens by accident. She's staying the night like she always does after they fuck, but on this particular night her subconscious decides to inflict the mother of all nightmares on her. Thank you, traumatic childhood experiences. She's had this one before - the incident happened fifteen years ago and she has the recap at least once every six months, more often when she's stressed - but in this particular variant, she actually dies. And then she wakes up screaming.

In seconds, her lover pulls her into his arms. He's solid and warm and holds her shaking body through the worst, the long few minutes it takes her to process that she's still alive. "It's okay. Breathe in, breathe out. I've got you. It's okay. I won't let anyone hurt you."

"It wasn't that kind of nightmare," she says, doing her best to keep from crying.

"Do you need to talk?"

She rolls her eyes - he's made it very clear that they _don't_ talk, but it's half past three in the morning and apparently this is an exception. "When I was eight, my brother and I went exploring. I'm not totally sure how it happened, but… I got trapped in a cave, and it took them six hours to get me out. They said I nearly died. Sometimes I wonder why I didn't."

"Because you're strong," he replies, pushing her hair aside and leaving a gentle kiss behind her ear.

"You don't know that. You don't know anything about me. You won't let yourself know anything about me."

"I want to. I just-"

"I know. You're scared." She shifts, faces him, rests her head on his chest. "It's okay. I'm not good at letting people in either. I don't really have a concept of TMI, so I guess I'm a little different, but… I don't get attached easily. Being here with you makes me want to change that."

"I wish we could."

"I don't want to push you, but… what is there that's big enough to justify this distance? I've fallen in love with you and I don't even know your name. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"It does. Just not enough."

"I want you to promise me something. If I ever _need_ to know what your big dark secret is, fucking tell me. Don't let me get hurt. I like you but if this screws me over…"

"I'll tell you someday. I promise."

"I'm going to hold you to that."

Someday had better mean within the next year, she decides, or they're going to have problems. She trusts this man with her heart and her body, but she's not sure she'll be able to deal with whatever he's hiding. And sometimes, she wonders how well _he's_ dealing with it, or if he even tries at all.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Octavia is nothing if not fearless. She knows it's dangerous, a girl her age and look walking home alone at one in the morning, but she's got this under control. She could walk from the bar to her apartment in her sleep, thank you very much, and she's got pepper spray somewhere in her purse and an actual small wrench on her keychain to jab into someone's neck if need be. (Raven's idea of a cute birthday present last year. Octavia knew better than to ask questions.) She did karate for two years because she was in middle school and needed a hobby, and she can run pretty damn fast in ballet flats if she needs to. She's fearless, but she can back her shit up.

It's the most normal Tuesday night of her life. Work was quiet, she only had to threaten Monty with the spray bottle _once_ (how a genius IT kid ends up working the slow nights at a damningly mundane bar, nobody wants to know), and she'd be tempted to call the guy she's sleeping with if, y'know, she had his phone number. Or any other form of contact info. Which she does not. He shows up at the bar on the nights he wants to be with her, but otherwise the man does not exist and it's getting a little annoying. They've had their little arrangement for two months now, and he's lucky he's a good fuck because otherwise she would've drawn her line by this point. Privacy, she gets. Whatever the hell he's on the run from? Not so much.

And okay, maybe she's thinking about him as she walks home. She has an itch of the variety that will have to get worked through with her vibrator once she reaches her destination, and letting herself zone out a little bit isn't the worst thing in the world. She knows this area, she's not in any danger here. It's perfectly alright for her brain to wander off to memories of how it feels to be underneath him - she's insisted on topping with everyone else she's ever been with, she's deathly afraid of being squished, but it's different with this one. Instead of making her feel small, he makes her feel safe. He kisses her a lot, holds her like he'd die defending her if he had to, says nice things about the parts of her body she's admitted she's not fond of. He's basically perfect, and yet-

Her brain blanks out as she feels hands on her and she descends quickly into panic mode. Kick, aim for the asshole's crotch, he probably only wants her purse but god fucking help him if she's wrong. Attempt again when that doesn't work. Scream. Fall forward, emotions running wild, panic mode getting the better of her. Brace for the worst, brace for-

"What the actual fuck?!"

Octavia Blake is decidedly not fond of superheroes, but she may need to rethink that stance. She has no idea where the masked figure came from, but they're solving her problem quite nicely. Their technique is fluid, and though there's some sort of sword strapped to their back, they don't attempt to use it. She's impressed and, despite her current state, just a little bit turned on.

Well, on the bright side, there's no way tonight can possibly get weirder or worse.

She curls into a ball and stays there until it's over. She half expects the black-clad figure - the Wolf, if she remembers things correctly, one of the first to appear and one of the few whose abilities are learned instead of natural - to disappear as soon as that happens, but they don't. Instead, they kneel down next to her, offering their hand. Panicked as she is, Octavia takes it - if nothing else, it's the polite thing to do, and she's not a _total_ asshole in panic mode.

"Do you need help getting home?" they ask her. Their voice is familiar, but she knows a lot of people and she brushes it off.

"You seriously don't have anything better to do?" she counters, rolling her eyes.

"No."

"Okay then. Thank you."

The rest of the walk is quiet, and it's easy to ignore the fact that she's not alone. The Wolf is (unsurprisingly) not talkative, nor are they into unnecessary physical contact. Octavia may not _like_ them, per say, but she can respect them easily enough. They're a nice presence, oddly comforting, and she nips those thoughts as quickly as she can because otherwise she'll go back to the pattern that got her into this mess in the first place. Hell, it's awkward to be thinking about her lover when she's around someone else, and tonight's been weird enough without that added weight. Quiet is better.

Then, outside her building, she breaks.

She's not entirely sure what happens, what sets her off, but one moment she's fine and the next she's curled in a ball again and she's fricking _crying_ this time and this, she thinks, this is the part where the Wolf ought to see what a lost cause she is. This, she thinks, is the part where they ought to leave her and find someone who's still worth saving. But it isn't.

Instead, they get down on the concrete next to her and hesitantly put their arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. Breathe in, breathe out. I've got you. It's okay. I won't let anyone hurt you."

She knows those words. She knows that voice.

Okay, _now_ tonight can't get any weirder…


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three updates in a day. This thing's gonna be the end of me and I regret nothing.

So, apparently the guy Octavia is sleeping with has a secret life of the one variety she _hadn't_ considered. She wishes she was more surprised.

"What the hell?" she growls, backing away. Screw emotional breakdown, she can do that on her own time. Right now, she feels like she's on fire.

"Is something wrong?" he asks. Thank goodness he's wearing a mask, because otherwise there would probably be puppy eyes involved and she just can't deal with that right now.

"Stop fucking lying to me. This is… this is above and beyond, this is…"

"Can we have this conversation somewhere else?"

"The walls of my apartment are basically paper."

"Please?"

"Your funeral, asshole."

Three flights of stairs later, Octavia has mostly focused her fury. Mostly, she's mad that he didn't tell her that he has a high-risk occupation. Or maybe she's more mad that he didn't, y'know, _tell her_ after he rescued her from getting mugged or worse. Or… hell with this, she has _not_ focused her fury and that's just as well because he's earned everything he's about to get from her.

"Were you ever really going to tell me?" she asks once the door is closed and locked.

He doesn't reply, just removes his mask and sets it on her kitchen counter. Yup, same guy she's been screwing on the regular, _fantastic_. His gloves and jacket follow, and he's standing in the main room of her apartment in a tank top and skinny jeans and it's tempting to think that the thin walls could be an entirely different sort of problem. No, she tells herself, she is pissed off and slightly traumatized and sex will solve absolutely nothing. No matter how unexpectedly hot this situation is.

"Were you _ever_ going to tell me?"

"No."

Well, at least he's honest. "Any reason? Is it more fun to screw with girls who don't know? 'Cause let me tell you something, the brooding antihero routine might work on most people but it just pisses me off and-"

"I wanted to keep you safe."

She's actually speechless.

It makes sense, she tells herself. It's not people in the public eye who get hurt, it's their partners and friends and family members. Being a superhero's girlfriend is like getting a target permanently tattooed on one's back, and she's not into that kind of risk. But maybe, in some way, he could've fucking _told_ her before she got in this deep!

"Okay then. Why me? What the fuck did you see in me that made you think I was easily manipulated?"

"Manipulated?" he repeats, spitting it out like poison. "I didn't say-"

"Answer my damn question. Why me?"

"Because you saw right through everything."

"Bullshit. If I had, would we be having this fight right now?"

"The point was that you didn't know."

"What, you like your girls stupid or something? Because okay, I know I'm not the queen of good life choices, but-"

"People close to me could get hurt. I don't want that. Especially not for you."

"Yeah, and keeping me in the dark keeps me safe? Exactly how the fuck is _that_ supposed to work?"

"I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry." He takes a step closer, surprised when she doesn't move away. "I didn't want it to be like this."

"I get it. I was convenient anonymous sex. It was fun. But then I got _attached_. I was falling in love with you, and… now this has happened and I'm not sure who the fuck you actually are and-"

"What do you want to know?"

"Your name. How old you are. How you afford that ridiculous apartment and why you can't be bothered to actually decorate it. What the fuck you saw in me."

She expects a diversion, perhaps even a disappearance. Anything but what she actually gets.

"My name is Lincoln Birch. I'm twenty-nine, thirty next month. There were some very smart investments before my father… before my father lost it. Decorating takes effort, and it's pointless if I'm the only person who sees it."

"I'll see it," she breathes. "At least, if you don't think I'm completely insane now, which I probably am so-"

"No. I'm in love with you. I know it's dangerous, that's why I didn't tell you anything, but… those nights we get, I wake up next to you in the morning and I can't help wondering if the risk is worth it. I figured if I didn't ever tell you, then we'd never find out, and now-"

"You're a dick," she mutters, but she's definitely calmer now. "A dick with a nice dick. I can get over it."

"You hate me."

"Fuck no. Okay, I'm definitely not thrilled with you right now, but… I get it. You're scared. You try to save the world but all you do is get people hurt." She closes the distance between them, presses her lips to his for a heartbeat. "You don't need to worry about me. I know I look breakable, but I'm not. I'm really not."

"Whether you're breakable has nothing to do with this?"

"Oh?"

"That one night you had a nightmare… you confirmed my choice. You've been through enough without me taking you on a guided tour of hell."

"And if I tell you that I like the heat?"

"That's your decision, mystery girl."

"Yeah, I should probably… my name's Octavia. I'm twenty-three. You are currently standing in the reason I am totally cool with our arrangement always happening at your place. Like, I'm not sure my bed could handle your weight let alone both of us, sometimes I think it'll break with just _me_ and-"

"It's nice to actually meet you, Octavia."

For the third time that night, she breaks down. For the third time that night, she finds comfort in her lover's arms.

She knows damn well this isn't over, and she's pretty sure their relationship will be different now, but right now she just wants to lose herself in all that he is - and oh, what a beautiful way to go down.


	5. Chapter 5

He turns up the next Friday like he always does, a little worse for wear but still lights up when he sees her, and her heart flutters like she didn't know was even possible. This one's going to be the end of her, she's sure of it now, she's not sure how that'll happen but it will and she's accepted this fate. She likes him too much - no, loves him, she might as well just use that word and be done with it. She loves him, she's well aware of how many consequences there might be, and she doesn't care.

It's too easy to get through her shift with that distraction in the background, a reassuring presence to focus on when things get chaotic (and they do, it's one of _those_ Fridays and she hates it). Her coworkers have accepted it by now - she has a sort-of-boyfriend, and he hangs around sometimes, and he's intimidating as all hell when she needs to do damage control and needs a little backup. As completely terrifying as Octavia can be when she's pissed off, she's still five foot two and a hundred pounds even and sometimes that isn't enough. A quiet force behind her who just _happens_ to be literally twice her size? Best thing that ever happened to her.

(She's really tempted to drag him into the back room after one particular incident, but she restrains herself. Barely.)

It's different now, she _knows_ that. Or at least it should be. She should probably hate him, she has more than enough reasons for that (at least temporarily). But she looks at him and all she sees is light, beauty, potential. Even in the aftershocks of her annoyance, she see something that could consume her, and the weird thing is that she _wants_ it.

Normally, this would be the part where she'd run like hell. Octavia does not do relationships. In general, Octavia does one-night stands that turn into recurrent bad habits until the guy either gets a girlfriend or tries to hurt her (it's always one of the two and she's not sure which variant annoys her more). That's what this one was _supposed_ to be, except idiot-proofed because perfect anonymity. They were supposed to continue like this for a couple of months, and then whatever demons he has would've gotten him and she would've moved on because she is so, so good at moving on. But no, clearly something out there is having a lot of fun making her life miserable, because that is decidedly _not_ what happened.

She knows who he is, and normally that kind of information would scare her and push her away, but this time it's making her clingy. She's given up on explaining it to herself, let alone anyone else. Against her better judgment - did she ever even _have_ better judgment? - Octavia has fallen madly in love, and there's nothing in the world that could make her walk away this time.

\------

It's too easy to be with her. It's too easy to put his arm around her on the walk back to his place, too easy to kiss her forehead and get lost in her everything. Lincoln would not describe himself as a romantic, but this entanglement is apparently turning him into one and he's pretty sure he doesn't mind as well.

He's a little surprised she's still interested, honestly. She made it damn clear that she doesn't approve of what he is, and he knows he didn't reveal that in the best way but it's not like there's a social protocol on how to tell the woman you're sleeping with (the woman you're in love with) that you moonlight as a vigilante. As far as he knows, there isn't, and maybe it did look a little creepy that he just _happened_ to rescue her like that but it's not like he was following her. He swears he wasn't. Just a coincidence that led to the discovery of exactly how loud she can be.

She should hate him, but instead she about tackles him the moment they're safely in his apartment and he is so, so okay with this.

It is, admittedly, just a little different now that he knows things. Perhaps the more important details are the ones she hasn't said - that he's far from her first, that she's normally more assertive, that she doesn't know how to really love someone. Well, that's two of the three in common, but they can work through it. He has so much faith in her, in this glorious woman who fits so perfectly in his arms as he lifts her up and spins her around and kisses her. Not even for any particular reason, just because he can. She laughs as he sets her down, and she's so beautiful when she's in that mode. Not that she isn't to begin with, but happiness is a good look on Octavia.

Octavia. She has a _name_ now, and he breathes it against her skin as he unhooks her bra. She said once that she hates her breasts, they're too small and useless, but he thinks they're cute and he tries to focus on them a bit. Every bit of her is perfect, and maybe he says that a little more often than he needs to but he's pretty sure that's what a good boyfriend does.

He doesn't actually know how to do this relationship thing. His parents' marriage was chaotic on a good day, and the murder-suicide double act when he was eighteen surprised absolutely no one. He doesn't really have friends, and what few he has are just as useless as he is when it comes to silly little things like true love. There aren't any clear examples to follow, but _god_ , he watches this girl come undone under his hands and he wants to try for her more than he's ever wanted anyone.

It's different when he pushes into her, different when she rolls her hips to meet him. She's decidedly more vocal tonight and he thinks he likes that, she seems decidedly more comfortable in herself. She reaches up and scratches his back - her nails are surprisingly sharp for how short they are - and he moans and this, this is what heaven feels like. This, crossing the edge right after she does, breathing her name again because he can _do_ that now and it sounds so right in his voice. She's too good for him, he's accepting it now and he's alright with it.

Afterwards, she turns to face him. "I'm still mad at you," she says, but there's a new playfulness in her voice and she's definitely smiling.

"I made a mistake, Octavia. It's a hard thing to tell someone."

"So I'm guessing none of the other people you've fucked ever found out?"

"None of them ever mattered enough. Not like you do."

"Should I feel special?"

"Yes," he breathes, pulling her close.

If Lincoln had to pinpoint the best moment of his life, it would be right here, lying next to her. She knows the worst of him and she's still here. This, he's pretty sure, is what true love looks like.


	6. Chapter 6

There's a Thing. There's a Thing of the sort that he can't get out of, the sort of Thing where going alone is absolutely damning for someone of his age and connections. He's tried damn well to avoid that world, and most of them didn't want anything to do with him after what happened, but there are certain social expectations that still hold and one of them is imminent and the only ways to avoid it are hospitalization and death. As neither of those sound appealing at the moment, a better plan is in order.

"How do you feel about formal events?" he asks his lover. It's morning, they're a mess of entangled limbs and her hair is everywhere, and this seems like as good a time as any to ask her.

"Can I ask why this is suddenly important?"

"There's something next weekend. If I go alone, people will talk."

"And if you bring _me_ , they won't?" she laughs. "You're sweet, but I think you're more sex-hazed than you even know and-"

"You can lie about who you are if you think that'll help. I just… I want you there. For moral support."

"More like an excuse to sneak away and fuck in a bathroom," she mutters, rolling her eyes. "Sounds like fun."

"So you're in?"

"I don't own anything those people would consider a dress, but-"

"We can get you something."

They don't talk about his resources. One of the beautiful things about their relationship is that it hasn't really come up - they don't go out, they don't spend money on each other, the difference is usually irrelevant. But it isn't now, and he's willing to bet everything that she's not good at taking gifts from people, and he wishes it wasn't this way but-

"Okay. Fine."

"You're not freaking out."

"I am, just not… visibly. I know I'm dramatic, but I'm too tired for that right now."

"You're not dramatic."

"Do you have me confused with someone else?! I overreact. I _know_ I overreact, and I get away with it because I'm tiny and cute but that doesn't mean it's _good_."

He kisses her forehead, innocent as anything. "You deal with your problems, Tae. I admire that."

"How did I get lucky enough to have you?"

"I've been asking myself the same question for two and a half months."

\------

If there is one thing Octavia hates, it's shopping. Sure, it sounds all nice, but then she gets into it and she remembers how much she hates it and she gets stabby. Having someone else along for the ride - even if said person is her lovely boyfriend, who apparently needs her to look amazing for some high-society event and she's doing the good-person thing and not asking questions - does not help that problem.

"Have we established that I'm too short for basically every dress I've tried on?" she growls, twirling around in yet another gown that was probably designed for a woman a solid foot taller than she is.

"Heels are a thing," Lincoln reminds her, trying not to laugh.

"Have you seen me try to walk in heels? Think baby giraffe except that I end up spraining something and taking the nearest idiot down with me."

"You can be as clingy as you need to be. Doesn't bother me."

"You are the calmest person I've ever met. I'd totally wonder if you were a robot if you weren't so good at… other things."

He doesn't argue that, just stands back and lets her be. He deserves a medal for this, she decides.

Eventually, after about twenty more dresses, an appropriate one is found. It's bright blue, short enough that she doesn't _have_ to wear heels, and has a price tag that she looks at for half a second before deciding it's better not to know. If this is the beginning of her destiny as a kept woman, she's okay with that.

"I am going to pay you back for this somehow," she mutters once they're safe in his apartment again.

"You don't need to."

"I know, but that's still… above and beyond."

"If you're uncomfortable, you can say so."

"I'm not _that_ uncomfortable. I get it, you have obligations and if I'm going to be a permanent part of your life then I need to get over my hangups and tag along. Doesn't bother me _too_ much."

He kisses her, sweet and lingering, over and over but no further. "Permanent," he repeats. "I like that word."

"I might change my mind. I've only known you three months. Things could happen."

"They could, but I hope they don't."

"Same."

\------

"I look like a fairy princess," she says, rolling her eyes. The woman in the mirror resembles her in only the vaguest way, hair in a simple updo and makeup carefully applied and the _dress_ clinging to her in just the right ways. She's not sure how she's supposed to feel about this, but she thinks she likes it.

"You look beautiful," her partner replies, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

"Yeah, and if that goes where I think it's going… after, okay? I will play nice tonight, I'll be the cute mysterious girlfriend or whatever the fuck I need to be, but you are repaying me for this. Sexually."

"The thought of doing otherwise never even crossed my mind."

"I knew I loved you for reasons."

\------

The event - an annual horror, supposedly a charity fundraiser but no one really believes that anymore - is not the calamity it could be. That is what they decide in the aftermath.

"I don't even know what I did," she sighs, burying her face in her hands once they're safely home.

"You were yourself," he replies, pulling her into his arms. "I'm not mad at you, Octavia. You were brave."

"More like I probably ruined your life!"

"You're an amazing woman, but I don't think you're _that_ good."

"I don't even… people started talking about you and next thing I knew I'd attempted to punch the woman who runs the damn thing. I don't remember what happened between those two things. I'm so sorry."

"You don't need to be."

She looks up at him and it's all she can do to keep from crying. "Really?"

"You don't see yourself, do you." He pauses, waits for her to say something, continues when it becomes clear she's not going to do much beyond cry for a while. "You're fire, and sometimes it gets out of control but you don't do that intentionally. You fight for things, you inspire me to be a better person. Tonight… maybe you crossed a line, but I'm proud of you. I am so, so proud of you."

Obviously, the only logical reaction is to pin him against the nearest wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come flail with me on tumblr - @electricbluebutterflies.


	7. Chapter 7

"Can I come?"

It's one in the morning on a Monday night and he's nearly suited up when her arms wrap around him from behind. "You want me to stay," he figures, turning so he can see her.

"No. I mean, of course I want you to stay but… I worry about you. I get it, you're bulletproof and you don't take stupid risks, but you're still _human_ and I'm scared that someday you're gonna come back here bleeding, you're gonna come back with a bullet in your arm or something, or you won't come back at all and I'll get a panicky phone call from some stressed-out ER nurse telling me that you're unconscious or _dead_ or-"

"I'm careful, Octavia."

"I know that. I _know_ that, but… I want to _do_ something. You take care of me. You back me up when I'm dealing with assholes at work. You let me move in here and your only hangup was the fucking flamingo lamp."

"It's an abomination. I rest my case."

"And a family heirloom, and I'm stuck with it until my brother gets his shit together, so too bad. It's cute."

"It's radioactive plastic."

"Family. Heirloom. Get over yourself, babe." She darts up and kisses his cheek, her expression darkening. "Point being… we've been together for four months, you've pieced my life together, and I've done basically nothing for you. I feel bad."

"You make me feel human. That's enough."

"You're in, like, the most dangerous profession there is. And you've _seen_ me, I wouldn't be dead weight. I could help you."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

She rolls her eyes. "Me, get hurt? First of all, I am your live-in girlfriend and only known emotional attachment so I'm pretty well fucked if anyone decides they want to get to you through someone else. Secondly… I could train. I do have time on my hands, and I learn quickly. And… gah, isn't it a rule that every fighter needs backup? Why should heroes be any different?"

He lifts her up and kisses her, tries to inhale her. "You have some valid points, but… not yet, darling."

" _Fine_."

"I'll be back in a few hours," he promises as he pulls on his gloves. "You should sleep."

"If you're not here when I wake up, I'm going into panic mode. Are we clear?"

"Clear."

\------

Instead of the comforting weight of Lincoln collapsing onto their mattress after his patrol, Octavia is woken up by her phone four hours later. "If this isn't a genuine emergency, you're fucking dead," she growls.

"Ms. Blake?" an unfamiliar voice asks.

"It is five in the morning, asshole. Talk quickly or I'm hanging up on you."

"This is Dr. Griffin at Ark Memorial. Your… friend, is… not in good condition."

"What the hell happened to him?"

"Concussion, we think. We're not totally sure. Someone found him half-conscious and brought him in. He's awake now and he's asking for you."

"Anything else?"

"Few scrapes, broken ankle, nothing _terrible_. We're just keeping him for a few hours for observation."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

\------

An hour later, Octavia wanders down a sterile white hallway, fear coursing through her veins as she approaches the nurses' station. "I'm looking for my boyfriend. He was brought in about an hour ago, broken ankle and potential head trauma."

"Right this way," a middle-aged woman says, leading her down another hallway. "Potential is about the right word for it - we've done scans and there's no signs of any damage. We want him back in around a week from now to confirm, but… it's a miracle."

The woman opens a door and the world temporarily stops. For a few moments, the only thing Octavia can see is her partner, hooked up to monitors and looking like hell but at least he's _alive_. She's halfway tempted to tackle him, but she knows better and so she just walks over with the most annoyed look she can manage on her face. "Don't ever do this to me again."

Lincoln reaches out to her with his free hand, entwining their fingers. "I don't plan on it."

"I feel like such a terrible person. I yell at you for not having backup and then _this_ happens and-"

"I'm alive. I feel like I got run over by a truck, but I'm alive and they're going to let me leave in an hour."

"What happened?"

"I don't really remember."

"I want to know. Please."

"I don't remember, Tae. I would tell you if I did."

"Okay then."

She sits down in an uncomfortable plastic visitors chair, pulls it closer so she doesn't have to let go of his hand, and doesn't move until the doctor lets him go two hours later.

" _Now_ do you see why I want to be your backup?" she asks at one point.

"After I'm on my feet again," he replies. "I promise."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come flail with me on tumblr @electricbluebutterflies.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cabin fever is kinda the worst.

Being out of commission sucks. Lincoln is a private man, yes, but being confined to his apartment for a solid two weeks - less because that's what the doctor actually instructed and more because he apparently broke his ankle in three places and putting any unnecessary weight on it fucking _hurts_ \- feels like it ought to be a circle of hell. One of the inner ones, he thinks, the one that people who disregard traffic laws and don't leave tips at restaurants end up in. It's _miserable_.

Somehow, Octavia simultaneously makes it better and worse. Better because she can do things like get groceries and the mail and provide a little support when he does need to move around. Worse because if he makes a bad caged animal, she's ten times worse and the fact that she's _already_ in a bad mood doesn't help either of them. She paces around a lot, hovers, worries too much. Her nightmares get bad again to the point where he's pretty sure she doesn't sleep at all, and she wakes up screaming at odd hours and there's nothing either of them can do. He may be the wounded one, but she's shouldering most of the weight.

The third day after the accident, she gets her hands on his credit card and orders a katana.

He doesn't find out until he finally gets around to checking his email the next day, and he isn't really that bothered. Convinced that a petite woman and a long sword is a bad idea, yes, but saying no to her is like waving a red flag in front of a bull and he knows better. If she's going to be his partner in that area, she needs some sort of weapon, so he understands. Mostly.

"Do you have any idea how to use one of those?" he asks out of innocent curiosity, order confirmation still up on his phone.

"I've watched a lot of movies," she shrugs. "And I figured you could teach me, once… _this_ is over with."

"We could do that."

"You are so easily talked into things," she laughs, leaning over to kiss him.

"I want to keep you safe, and since you impulsively bought a sword…"

"That was _not_ impulsive. I thought about it for almost a week."

"And you didn't tell me because?"

"Because I didn't think it was a huge problem?"

He pulls her close, arms tight around her. "We're both terrible at this communication thing."

"We are. At least you mostly have reasons for it."

"Which I'm trying to stop."

"We're human. Humans are breakable. I need to stop being so mad about it."

He kisses her forehead. "You're hot when you're mad."

"No, I'm totally terrifying."

"Octavia, I love you but no."

"I know I'm too small to live but-"

"I like you the way you are. I'm just… more inclined to be turned on than terrified when you start yelling."

"You do realize I'm never gonna forget that detail."

"Yeah. Why do you think I told you?"

\------

On day six, Octavia gets bored. Admittedly, some of that is her fault - in solidarity, she's decided not to leave the apartment except for work and necessary errands until everything's okay - but it seems like the right thing to do. She's still learning how this whole relationship thing works, but taking care of people is familiar territory for her. And if that happens to mean a lot of cuddling in their bed… she's here for it.

At least, for the first few days, and then her hormones get the better of her.

With anyone else she's ever been with, this wouldn't be a problem. (With anyone else, she wouldn't have stuck around long enough to get to this point of semi-committed domesticity, but that detail is irrelevant.) Octavia is sexually assertive by nature, and she's never had trouble discussing her wants. Even here, with someone who is so gloriously different from anyone else she's had, she's comfortable being open. If she wants attention, she asks. If she wants to kiss him, she does. If unwinding from a long night at work would be so much easier with his face buried between her legs, she says so. Normally, none of this is a problem.

There's just, y'know, the small issue of Lincoln's physical abilities being severely restrained for the next week (if not even longer, but neither of them want to think about that option).

They've been a thing for nearly five months now, and their sex life is amazing in a way she didn't know was even possible. Part of this, as much as she hates to admit it, is the fact that she's comfortable with him on top. No, maybe comfortable isn't even the right word - it's the only way they've done things, and it feels right to give up the sense of control that she normally clings to. He's good to her, and she trusts him, and there hasn't been a need to change things up.

But again, hormones and bad timing.

She decides to deal with the problem as directly as possible. She paid enough attention to know that Lincoln is not supposed to put any unnecessary weight on his foot, but the doctor didn't say anything about sex in general so she's pretty sure they're clear for what she's planning. At least, she hopes they are. If something goes wrong, they'll deal with it when they need to; until then, she has an itch and she hopes it's mutual.

Instead of flinging herself onto the bed like she always does when she gets home from work and just needs to _sleep_ , she walks over to the other side and slowly removes every piece of her clothing. By the time she's got her shirt off, her lover's eyes are glued to her, dilating as she exposes herself. Then, without any explanation or formality, she straddles him and kisses him like fire.

"What are you doing?" he asks when they breathe, even though it's damningly obvious.

"Solving multiple problems," she laughs. "If that's okay with you."

"Very okay."

She backs away for a few moments while his clothing is removed, traces patterns on his thighs and feathers kisses on his stomach. For a moment, she considers going even lower with her mouth, but this is about her just as much as it's about him and now is not the time to work on his problem of not knowing how to be the center of attention. She sticks her tongue out anyways, tastes him, but then her knees are around his hips again and she guides him into her and _oh god yes._

He nips at her breasts as she rides him, one of his hands between them as always to help her cross. She does, breathing heavily and collapsing onto him for a moment before remembering he hasn't made it that far. She's still not used to being with someone so considerate and in control, and the change in power dynamic is throwing her off. In a good way, definitely, but-

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, just… overwhelmed."

"Do you want to stop?"

"Not really? I wanted to do this for you but-"

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Octavia."

"I want this, I'm just-"

"If you're not into it, you're not into it. Backing out midway is an option."

"I'm not sure what I'm doing, I'm not sure if this is even good for you…"

"It's good."

"I'm not used to people like you. And I thought that wasn't a problem anymore, but…"

"Am I doing something wrong?"

" _What_?!"

"You're normally more sure of yourself, and-"

"It's not you," she breathes, shifting position slightly to kiss him. "That's the problem. I'm not used to being with someone who cares how I feel."

"It's okay if you want to get off me. I'll be okay either way."

She responds by rolling her hips downward, burying her moans in the curve of his neck and crossing again right before he does.

Afterwards, they lie close to each other, her head on his chest and his fingers absently playing with her hair. "Did that help?" she asks.

"Was it supposed to?"

"You're stuck in bed, babe. I figured…"

"Yeah. That was nice."

"I have never heard someone say that as a _good_ thing after sex."

"First time for everything?"

"Something like that."

This is where her heart belongs, and as she falls asleep in her partner's arms, she wouldn't have it any other way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come flail with me on tumblr - @electricbluebutterflies.


	9. Chapter 9

"So how much of your karate lessons do you actually remember?"

They're in his training space - a warehouse, and isn't that just such a cliché - and she's trying not to panic. They figure it'll be another few weeks before he's functional enough to do patrols again, but they can at least figure out what her abilities _are_ and make plans. It's a beginning.

"Um… not much, actually. I was twelve, it's obviously been a while, and I was more determined to beat up this one kid than actually learn anything." At her partner's unamused look, Octavia continues. "He was a dick, okay? My body developed early, I was kinda screwed there, but this guy seriously overestimated a few things and… hey, we were in an environment where me kicking his ass was not only acceptable but encouraged."

"Do you remember _anything_?" Lincoln asks, trying not to think too much about the other details.

"I can kick really high."

"Can you show me?"

She does, and she can, and her balance is surprisingly good. "Voila!"

"That's really good. Anything else?"

"Um… how to jab someone's groin with every poky part of my body? I feel like I do _not_ need to demonstrate that."

"I'll trust you."

"So… what else?"

"I know you can run, I'm not worried about that. Climbing?"

"Climbing a ladder or like rock climbing?"

"Both, but the first one comes up more."

"Have you somehow missed the fact that I weigh, like, _nothing_? I've got that down."

"Have you ever used a gun?"

"You don't _have_ a gun soooo irrelevant."

"It's a question, Octavia. Please?"

"Once, last summer, when I was visiting my brother - who, just for the record, you are never allowed anywhere near. Do not fight me on this. He used to be in the army and poor impulse control is a genetic trait and I haven't let him meet anyone I've been with since I was fifteen and even that one was a mistake. The fact that you're perfect is not gonna stop him, okay?"

(This is actually an understatement. Octavia has not so much as let Bellamy know that she's seeing someone, and she hesitated before letting him know that she moved. "Overprotective" is not enough of a word for that mess, and she's gotten good at total avoidance.)

"Scary older brother. And you choose _now_ to tell me?"

"Because it never mattered before? He's in Texas. He can _stay_ in Texas as far as I'm concerned." Octavia swings her hips and bats her eyelashes, attempting distraction mode. "Next question?"

"I think that's enough," Lincoln replies.

"Seriously?"

"You're in a good place. I'm less worried about you now than I was ten minutes ago."

"You were worried about me? That's so sweet."

"It's hard not to be."

\------

He wakes up in the middle of the night, heart racing, panicked as he checks that the sleeping woman next to him is perfectly alright. He knows better than to wake her - he made that mistake _once_ , never again - but he's calmed by her steady breathing and even heartbeat. She's okay. She's okay.

"What are you doing awake?" she breathes, still half-asleep.

"Nightmare."

"What kind?"

"The kind where I kill you."

He expects her to panic, but instead she turns to face him and he can almost see the worried look on her face. "It's just a dream. I'm right here, I'm safe."

"I could see it. Blood on my hands, how fragile and broken you were and… I meant to do it. I wanted to."

Again he expects her to back away; again she does the opposite, reaching out and squeezing his hand. "But you're awake now, and I know you'd never hurt me. You're not that kind of man."

"Not anymore."

"Oh?"

He takes a deep breath, holds her hand so tightly that he's worried about accidentally breaking her fingers. "After my parents died, I spiraled. I did things I shouldn't have done. I don't remember most of it, but… I remember waking up one morning and hating myself beyond words and that's what it took to get out. I've been clean for almost ten years, but there's always that fear."

"You're strong. I know you don't think you are, but ten years is a long time and I'm proud of you."

"It didn't end there though. Using needles to forget did, but the rest of it… I didn't become a superhero because it was the moral thing to do, Octavia. I did it because it seemed like an easy way to get myself killed."

"But it didn't work. You're still here."

"I'm still here. What I thought would kill me ended up saving me. Funny how that happens."

"I think you're brave. I know you don't think that, but… we're a matched pair, you and I. We're broken but we combine and we make something beautiful."

"That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Clearly you need to meet better people, but… I'm your girlfriend, and I'm pretty sure that's what good girlfriends do. I dunno. I don't exactly have experience there."

"Neither do I, but I think you're doing amazingly."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight!!


	10. Chapter 10

Unsurprisingly, Octavia is an absolute natural with a sword. Her style is less fluid than her partner's, more deliberate and fierce. She watches hours of Youtube videos, observing techniques and taking note of what fascinates her, and practices as much as she can. On her own, she learns steps and maneuvers, and within a month she's passably good at it.

"I want to spar," she says one night, leaning back against the wall after a set.

"You won't be fighting anyone else who has a sword, Tae. Out there… it's not normal equipment."

"What if I just want to do something fun with you?"

That, Lincoln is more than willing to accept. "You're sure?"

"Am I ever not?"

By the end of that night, a few things are decided. First, that Octavia is more than ready to tag along on patrols; second, that fighting is excellent foreplay.

\------

She makes an outfit for herself, bright blue but otherwise similar to what most wear, and finishes it off with a sparkly masquerade mask. "What do you think they'll name me?" she asks, twirling around in the living room.

"Could be anything."

"There aren't any really good blue animals… except fish, and I don't like fish, and-"

"The Butterfly," Lincoln says, hands on her shoulders to steady her. "I think you look like a butterfly."

"That's cute. Doesn't sound badass though."

"Tae-"

"It _doesn't_ ," she growls. "But it's sweet, and we sound pretty awesome together. The Wolf and the Butterfly. I think I love it."

\------

Her first patrol is exhausting, but she learns quickly. By her fourth, the first time anything really _happens_ , she's good on her feet. And again unsurprisingly, they make an excellent combination. She knew this already, from the nights she's needed backup at work, but it's different when they've got weapons in hand. Better, somehow.

Two weeks in, they end up downtown and get a lot of media attention in the process. It's the first time the Butterfly has tangled with reporters, and she's halfway tempted to flip them off until her partner spins her around and kisses her like he never has in public before.

"There," he whispers against her skin as he sets her down. "Now they won't _need_ to ask what we are to each other."

"Is this some stupid macho claiming-territory thing? Because as oddly cute as that is-"

"No. I am yours just as much as you are mine."

"And if any of them ask about it?"

"Do your worst, love."

\------

"If I never see the phrase 'superhero power couple' on my Twitter feed again, I will die happy," she sighs, collapsing onto the couch.

"That bad?"

"You can't even imagine. Everyone else, the media's curious about secret identities and normal stuff, Us, they're just interested in how cute we are together."

"Well, you're affectionate."

"And you're the one who decided that spinny kisses needed to be a thing," she reminds him. "Not that I mind. I like that part of us."

\------

On their one-year anniversary of officially being a couple, Octavia gets shot. She's not entirely sure how it happens, but she's reaching for her weapon and then suddenly there's an awful pain in her side and then everything goes very, very black.

She wakes to the sound of beeping monitors and a semi-familiar face hovering over her. "I have no idea how your luck is this bad," the other woman says - never reassuring words from a doctor, but this one seems a little unconventional.

"Where's my boyfriend?" Octavia asks. The fact that Lincoln isn't right here with her is bad, what if he's hurt, what if-

"Your fiancé is right outside."

"Fiancé?" she repeats. "What the fuck? We are not-"

 _Well_. It's not like they haven't talked about it - they have, and she's pretty cool with the idea - but nor has he asked the big question yet. Unless he's about to, in which case he's a dead man walking because proposing in a hospital is just… no.

Yet somehow, when he slips a simple ring onto her free hand a few minutes later, it's the most good and right thing in the world.

"I've seen people get married for weird reasons, Octavia. Ours might be the weirdest."

"Wanting to make sure you can keep a proper vigil if I end up in here again isn't weird, it's romantic."

"But the fact that we have to plan for that?"

"I love you, okay. If I didn't, I wouldn't go out there with you every night. I didn't know what I was getting into when I met you, but I do now and… okay, we're spending our first anniversary in the hospital because someone tried to shoot me in the fricking kidney. I've accepted that we're not normal, Lincoln, but I like what we have better. You've helped me become someone I want to be, and I want to see if we can survive each other for another fifty years, y'know??"

"You're way too awake for the amount of painkillers they gave you," he laughs.

"Yeah, well… _someone_ had to do the super romantic proposal."

"I had a plan. There are flowers at the apartment. But then this happened."

"Yeah, and celebratory sex is going to have to wait like a week. We have the worst luck."

"We're both still here, Octavia. When you fell last night… for a moment I thought you were dead and it felt like the world ended. Being without you is not an option anymore. It hasn't been from the moment I met you."

"I feel the exact same way. And hey, planning a wedding can't possibly suck more than the last twenty-four hours.. right?"


	11. Epilogue

When Octavia envisioned where she would be at age twenty-five, she did not envision any of this. She did not envision the bright blue catsuit and the reputation she has as the Butterfly. She definitely had no plans for her side job as a superhero, nor for the way she's found strength in defending other people. She has a scar on her abdomen, a beautiful sense of self, and… hell, she's wearing white lace and actually _crying_ as she walks towards her love, that's the sort of thing that didn't even happen in her nightmares but here she is and it's the best moment of her life.

This doesn't change anything, she knows that. They're getting married because it makes logistical sense for who and what they are, because it'll be a lot easier for her to get through hospital red tape if she's there to see her husband instead of her boyfriend and because it looks better to have only one last name on the mailbox. They're having a wedding because… well, she's not entirely sure how that happened but it's happening. One weekend of more traditional activities before they go back to their usual routine of cuddles, sparring as foreplay, and saving the world (and _usually_ in that order).

She reaches the end without any disasters, reaches out and takes Lincoln's hands like she never wants to let go. He's choosing this every bit as much as she is, she knows, and she's still amazed that someone wants to put up with her for as long as they both shall live. The fact that the person in question is so solid and good despite everything he's been through is so much more than she expected, so much more than she deserves. (She knows he's thinking the exact same things about her right now and she loves him all the more for it.) It's overwhelming in the best way, and she doesn't ever want that feeling to stop.

This doesn't change anything, but at the same time it changes _everything_ and she has never wanted anything more in her life.

"Octavia April Blake, do you take this man to be your husband?"

She looks up, into the kind eyes of the person who pieced her together and invited her to do the same for him, and it's all she can manage to say two little words. "I do."


End file.
